Psychic's crystal ball is cracked

I hopped in the car for my appointment with a psychic, but when I turned the ignition — I don't want to get too technical here — the car didn't work

So I called psychic Paula and she agreed to come to my home.

"You probably need a jump," she predicted. As it turns out, that was the only thing she got right.

As mentioned in an earlier column, I booked a session with a psychic because believers always counter my skepticism by noting that I've never been to one, and Paula came highly recommended by people who insist that she reveals things about the dearly departed no one could possibly know.

Paula requested I text her my address, and I resisted the urge to ask why she didn't know it already, because she probably gets that a lot. She showed up 15 minutes later and took a seat at my dining room table. She said she had written down some stuff on her way over; apparently she was dealing with very business-like spirits, which sounded nothing like any of my late relatives.

"I hear the name Patrick," she said. I shook my head. "How about a 'P' sound?" No.

I began to feel bad for Paula, who gamely continued to throw out letters until I finally asked why the ghosts don't stop dickering around and simply identify themselves.

"It depends on how strong they are and how hard they're trying," she said.

I said I was going to turn up the heat because I was cold. She said it was because of the spirits, but I suspected it was due to the same reason my car wouldn't start.

"Did your dad have horses?" No. "I'm getting a farm." No. "Did he go to the horse races or gamble?"

"Yes!" I said, happy for Paula. "He liked to play blackjack."

"He's trying to tell you he's here. He's showing me his passing. It was difficult. I see tubes. He may have been a smoker. He had trouble breathing at the end." Most people do and they were fine guesses, but my non-smoker dad died of a stroke.

She said that my dad was proud of me. I asked if she ever told anyone that their deceased loved one was ashamed of them, and she indicated that she liked to keep the readings positive.

"Did you have a dog that passed?"

"No. We were a cat family."

"Well, did you have a cat that looked like a dog?" Paula was certainly resourceful, but the spirits weren't cooperating.

I'll bet he was. Paula continued to toss out lots of "visions" that had a high probability of being true. Unfortunately, my dad didn't fish, my grandmother never knit anything, I have no unresolved issues with a dead relative and Christmas isn't "very important" to my family.

"I would have liked this reading to have gone better," Paula acknowledged, when I finally ended it after more than an hour. "But if you're skeptical, that could affect it. And sometimes the spirits are confused."

Now that sounds more like my relatives. Also, if anyone out there is planning my cheese basket, please keep in mind that I'm partial to cheddar.